Flight 88 Down
by A-Sluggish-Memory
Summary: During a joy flight for Arthur Weasley's 50th birthday celebrations, an explosion causes the plane to crash. With their magic mysteriously blocked out by a greater force, how will the passengers possibly survive?
1. Prologue

_Dear Filius,_

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the transition into my fifth decade since birth. On the 6__th__ February 2000, please meet at Plymouth Airport at 6:00pm for a 6:30pm departure time. From there we will board muggle aircraft, Flight 88, for a joy flight over the Celtic Sea as well as a hand cooked dinner. As you are probably aware, this night was organised to celebrate my love of all things muggle! _

_As our pilot for the evening is a muggle, I have taken several precautions to ensure secrecy. For one, the plane had been placed under numerous anti-magic spells so unfortunately, magic will not be able to be performed on board. I will explain more details on the night..._

_Please send your owl with your RSVP by the 28__th__ December at the latest. Portkeys will be available at The Burrow if you need transportation._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Arthur Weasley_

* * *

><p>Flitwick smiled in anticipation and placed the letter on the wooden table before him, just beside his bacon and egg roll. Taking out his favourite quill and dipping it in ink, he wrote a letter of reply and deposited it back into the crisp envelope. He then proceeded to hop out of his chair, dawdle over to the kitchen cabinets and rummage for a seal.<p>

"Ah!" Flitwick squeaked, as he pulled out a bright red seal from the cluttered drawer. Boasting the Flitwick family crest, the seal was burned onto the envelope and Flitwick called out for his owl. "Fendrel!" he requested, looking around the house for his owl. In a matter of seconds, a well presented Tawny Owl flew in from the parlour and landed on the kitchen windowsill. "To the Weasley Family Home, Fendrel."

The curious owl gave a small nod to Flitwick and set out into the morning sun as Flitwick returned to his half-finished breakfast.

"This should be fun!" Flitwick told himself excitedly.

Oh how wrong he was.


	2. The Ominous Landscape

Gliding through the clouds and over the hilltops, Flitwick manoeuvred his broom perfectly through the sky. After a good forty minute flight over Britain, the wonky outline of The Burrow came into view, leading Flitwick to speed up his flying and race towards the home. As he flew closer, he saw several figures emerge from the house, many of them sporting mops of bright red hair. One of them noticed Flitwick and pointed towards him as some of the other figures waved. After letting out a small squeak of excitement, Flitwick slowed down and landed just by the house.

"So glad you could make it Filius!" called out a man, who was running over from the other side of the house. Arthur Weasley, dressed in a clean, black muggle suit, raced over to Flitwick and shook his hand. "I see you've bought some new robes, Filius." Arthur stated, examining Flitwick's deep purple attire.

"Ah, yes," Flitwick laughed, "My last set was getting a bit tight!"

"Well, you look splendid. We're just about to set off, come and say hello to the others."

Arthur gestured to the other side of the house and led Flitwick to the group of people, all standing around a small toaster.

Flitwick was met with an avalanche of greetings as Molly, Bill, Fleur, George and Ron Weasley gathered around the tiny Professor. Behind the crowd, Flitwick could also see Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, the Weasley's Aunt Muriel and Hermione Granger.

"Nice to see you again Professsor," Hermione said politely, "Did you have a good flight?"

He smiled at the young witch. "Oh yes! Weather's beautiful tonight; I believe it'll be clear flying this evening!"

"Well, then," Arthur announced, as he re-entered the group, 'Are we all set?"

"Is this really everyone Arthur?" Flitwick questioned, looking around the empty fields.

"Not entirely Filius; both Charlie and Percy couldn't get out of work, and Ginny is quite ill, so Harry's looking after her. The rest of the guests should be meeting us at the portkey destination!" Flitwick nodded and Arthur proceeded to usher everyone over to the toaster, "Alright everyone; hold on tight!" Arthur announced, as all of the group members placed a hand onto the toaster.

"3...2...1!" The world span erratically and the group was hoisted up into a wind turbine. Only moments later, they landed onto a grassy knoll, just overlooking Plymouth Airport. It was now 6:10pm, so the remaining guests were already there, huddled together, waiting for them. Professors Mcgonagall, Sprout and Slughorn were in a group discussing this year's Hogwarts curriculum while Rubeus Hagrid was talking to Minister Shacklebolt about the recent changes to magical creature classifications.

Just before they reached the gate into the airport, Arthur stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Now, as you were told in the invitation, tonight's affair will be one of strictly _no magic_. Although the plane has many anti-magic jinxes placed upon it, we can never be too sure. For this reason, I would ask that you deposit your wands into this bag for safe keeping."

"Give you our wands?" Aunt Muriel protested, stepping towards Arthur, "There is no way that my wand is leaving my pocket!"

"She does have a point," Professor Sprout offered, "What if something goes wrong, what will we do then?"

Arthur shook his head. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have taken all the precautions to make sure that tonight's flight is safe. Now please, hand over your wands," The group (even Aunt Muriel) eventually gave up and one by one, deposited their wands into the large velvet bag, "There, shall we proceed?"

The party guests followed Arthur into the compound towards a small blue plane on the other side of the runway. "Now remember, the pilot is a muggle. Which means... so are we," Arthur whispered to the group. "Mr Fletcher, we have arrived!"

A few moments later, a middle age muggle dressed in a padded green jacket, emerged from the plane. "Ah, you must be Mr Weasley, please, come inside and take your seats," stepping beside the door, he gestured for the guests walk up the stairs. In single file, each of the guests stepped up the stairs, entered the plane and took a seat. The plane had six rows of four seats with a large aisle separating the middle. Each seat was neatly padded and provided a soft headrest for each guest.

"Well this is comfortable," Professor Mcgonagall said approvingly, as she took a seat next to Slughorn.

"Indeed!" Slughorn agreed. "Arthur, will you and Molly be serving the dinner tonight."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Oh yes..." He replied, waiting for the pilot to enter the cockpit. "Actually Horace, we hired Kreacher and Winky from the Hogwarts kitchens to help out, they're hiding in the back!" Arthur winked and then helped the final guests take their seat. "Well, welcome to my 50th birthday celebrations. I would like to thank you all for coming to share this special day with me. In a couple of minutes, we shall take off and head over to the Celtic Sea. We will spend three hours flying over the water with dinner and dessert being served later on in the night. So yes, I hope you enjoy yourself. Feel free to roam around the cabin after takeoff, but for now, please fasten your seatbelt!" On that note, Arthur took his seat next to Molly, as the pair put on their seatbelts. Many of the other guests had no idea on what to do with these 'seat belts' and had to watch those who did, to figure it out. Hagrid had the most trouble, even managing to stab Professor Sprout, who was seated next to him.

Professor Sprout began to weep. "Pomona, yer' not upset cause I poked ya' with a little metal, are ya?" Hagrid asked, not thinking that he had pushed it into her very hard.

"Oh, no!" Pomona replied, not even noticing that something had bumped her. "It's just that I am not the best flyer. I was never good on a broom; I always had a huge fear of falling," Sprout buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

"Nonsense, Pomona. We're going to be fine! If Arthur trusts this flying muggle contraption, then we should too!"

"But what if something goes wrong, Rubeus?" Professor Sprout asked, staring into Hagrid's eyes.

"Don't worry, Pomona. We're going to be okay." Hagrid took a deep breath in.

"Everything will be alright."


	3. The Formidable Sky

The plane rumbled as it flew over the glistening water below. By now, the sun was just setting and the guests had settled down ready for dinner. Just as nightfall was upon them, two house elves appeared from the kitchenettes with silver trays of some of Arthur's favourite meals. Guests were treated to either a roast potato salad or grilled lamb chops for their entree, a traditional roast dinner or glazed chicken breast for their main meal, and a steamed plum pudding or raspberry trifle for dessert.

"Well that was just wonderful; those house elves did a great job in preparing our dinner!" Professor Slughorn stated, his mouth full of trifle.

Hermione shot him a nasty look. "They have names you know... thankyou Winky and Kreacher!" Hermione called out loudly, hoping the two elves would hear. "That was delicious!

"Yes, yes, that was scrumptious!" Molly replied, standing up out of her seat. Using the spoon from her plum pudding, she lightly tapped it on her wine glass and cleared her throat. "Attention, attention all! Since Arthur has reached such a milestone, I believe a speech is in order."

The plane sighed in a collectiveness of disgust. Molly Weasley was known for her extremely long speeches, often rambling on for several hours.

"Oh shush you all, it's Arthur's 50th, I must make a speech!" Molly replied, ignoring the plane's pleas to stop.

"Her personal best is 2 hours 17 minutes!" whispered George over to Kingsley, who was sitting directly in front of him.

"Well then, I first met Arthur in the September of 1961, we were both sorted into Gryffindor house and..."

All the Weasley children, who had heard this very same story a number of times before, had already started to drift in and out of the speech.

"At first I thought he was a bit of a dope but in time I managed..."

Fleur began having trouble keeping Bill awake while Ron asked Hermione to continuously pinch him so he wouldn't drift off. Molly was covering everything on her relationship with Arthur... which means everything.

"So Arthur came in the bedroom with this cute pair of boxer shorts..."

Luckily no-one was paying much attention to the provocative nature of Molly's speech. Ron had obviously missed a lot since the next time he looked up Molly was crying.

"And he stayed at my side... all day!" she wept, "He didn't leave me, not once. He smelled awful though..."

This went on for another 20 minutes, though most people had already tuned out after the one hour mark.

Other than Molly's seemingly never-ending speech, the night was running pretty smoothly. Just as Flitwick presumed, the skies were clear as ever and it was perfect flying weather. Everyone was having a fantastic time; they were enjoying the food... and the drinks.

"SO THE WITCH WALKED APPARATED WITH ZEST!" Dedalus sang loudly, hoisting his drink in the air.

"That Dedalus is a right twat," Aunt Muriel whispered to Elphias.

"Give the boy a break, Muriel. He's just trying to-"

"SHE HAD THE BIGGEST OF-"

"Best settle down now," advised Flitwick loudly.

Unfortunately, not all the passengers were having a good time.

"Yer still a bit stressed are ya, Pomona?" Asked Hagrid, looking over to the anxious witch beside him.

Sprout looked back at Hagrid. "No, it's just..."

An explosion ripped apart the plane's left wing. It veered out of control as empty plates and cups were flung around the cabin. Screams of shock and horror filled the plane as those standing up were knocked to the ground. Those on the ground struggled to get back up and reach their seats as all the lights, once shining, began flashing at a rapid pace. The seated passengers were jerked around and flung across seats as many of them tried to look out the window.

The Muggle pilot's voice sounded over the intercom. "Passengers; there seems to be have been some form of explosion on the left side of the plane. Please prepare for a crash landing as you put on your life jackets and seatbelts."

Those familiar with life jackets assisted those with little knowledge of them, before helping themselves. The plane began descending at a rapid speed with passengers bracing themselves for impact. Molly and Arthur held each other's hands as tight as they could, Bill and Fleur gave one last kiss to one another and Ron hugged Hermione in a firm grip. The cabin was in mayhem, screams and shouts were abundant, little prayers could be heard and the lights had now completely gone out. All that remained was a small, flashing red light at the rear of the plane. Guests had no idea on what to do, without magic, there was no hope. The small amount of fuel was the only thing left to hold them up.

Winky and Kreacher appeared from the kitchen, coughing on the fumes which now engulfed the cabin. They took shelter in the seats behind Hermione and Ron, awkwardly comforting each other.

"Minerva..." Slughorn coughed. "Are you alright?"

Mcgonagall was heavily wheezing, choking on the smoke. "I'll be alright..."

As the turbulence got worse, the plane was fell further towards the water.

"Bill, Bill! Don't ever let go!" sobbing hysterically, clutching her arms around her husband.

"Never," Bill muttered, holding back his own tears.

Meanwhile, Kingsley was saying his last goodbyes to George. "Well, my friend. It was nice knowing you."

"Kingsley you can't..."

"Boy!" Kingsley interrupted, strangely unnerved. "There's no hope now..."

Each and every passenger was bumping up and down and side to side, attempting to brace themselves for the worst. Sirens sounded as the pilot's voice sounded out one last time. "Ladies and Gentleman..." He didn't get to finish though. The sound was cut off, the flashing red light disappeared and the siren stopped.

The guests looked around confused and dumbstruck, before Flitwick realised what had happened. "We've ran out of fuel..." he told himself.

The plane fell at full speed towards the ocean, ripping through the wind and clouds. The passengers held on to their seats and each other as hard as they could, bending down to the brace position. Apart from the last sobbing goodbyes and screams of terror, the plane was almost silent.

Just before they hit the water, Professor Sprout let out a final terrified howl, which echoed through the cabin, chilling all who heard it.


	4. The Unforgiving Ocean

The hard waves thrashed against the floating remnants of the plane, various pieces of cutlery and luggage were scattered around the crash site. The aircraft was immediately torn apart on impact and many of the passengers were thrown far from the wreckage. There, trying to grip onto the nose cone of the plane was Flitwick. With only the moonlight reflecting upon the water, he could barely see a metre in front of him. Flitwick bobbed up and down trying to avoid the harsh waves coming towards him though many of the waves were more than twice his size and had immense trouble trying to stay afloat, even with his oversized life jacket.

"Hello?" He squeaked as his hands began to slip from the plane's wreckage. "Is there anybody—" Flitwick swallowed another large gulp of sea water and choked on the salt. "Out there..." He quietly whispered to himself. At times like this, he wished he had his wand. Unfortunately for him, Arthur Weasley had already taken the wands and placed them into a bag. Among the wreckage, he hoped that it might float by.

"Hello?" Flitwick heard another voice cry. "I'm over here!" The female shrieked again.

Making the tough decision to let go of the plane, Flitwick waded over to the source of the yelling. As he got closer, he soon saw the distressed figure of Molly Weasley, who was also having difficulty staying above the water. Her once tidy hair had collapsed over her face and her muggle makeup, she had specifically used for the evening, was running. Even in the darkness, Flitwcik could see that she had been crying.

"Filius!" She spluttered, upon seeing the tiny Charms Professor. "Have—have you seen Arthur? Or Ron and Bill? Or George and Fre—" Mrs Weasley stopped in her tracks. She still hadn't fully forgotten the tragic death of her son a few years back.

"I'm sorry Molly..." Flitwick replied, ignoring her last reference to her dead son. "I haven't seen any of them." In fact, Flitwick had seen no one since they had crashed. Had they been thrown that far from the plane that he could not see them? Or had they already sank to their watery graves? "It's only us..." Flitwick bowed his head down in sadness.

"Oh... that's quite alright." Molly stated, strangely flustered. "We better find something to hold onto."

Flitwick looked around the ocean but no longer saw any parts of the plane. The part of the plane he once held onto was out of sight so they had to search for another way to keep them up. The pair began struggling over the waves, clinging onto each other for support.

"Molly, look!" Flitwick shouted, trying to point to another figure up ahead. "There's someone else!" The excited pair quickly pushed through to the figure that they could now see, was floating upside down.

"Oh dear!" Molly shrieked, checking the pulse of the figure. "Can you tell who it is, Filius?"

Flitwick could at first, not tell Molly who it was. Apart from the fact that it was almost pitch black, the body constantly was getting washed away from them and Filius could not see their face. "Pomona." Flitwick said solemnly. "It's definitely Pomona." He confirmed, noticing her familiar emerald robes.

The pair remained silent. The thought of yet another one of their friends being killed was horrific. Now that the War was over, they assumed that the death count would remain low. Seeing one dead already made both Flitwick and Molly assume that there would be more. The crash itself was pretty devastating; the party was going so well until then. After minutes of silence, it seemed like the duo had given up.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were clutched together, just over one hundred metres from Molly and Flitwick, and were facing dire problems of their own. Hermione had lost her life jacket in the crash and had only Ron for support. Both were getting extremely weary and were close to drowning... or freezing to death. The water was colder than what many of the passengers had faced before. The only thing that came close was the memories of the Second Task of the Triwizard tournament, in where Ron and Hermione were held hostage in the lake. The difference was that last time; they were never in any immediate danger. Dumbledore would never let anything happen to them. This time, however, they had no magic, and had to fend for themselves.

"Hermione..." Ron choked, wiping his hair from his face. "Have you tried non-verbal spells?"

Hermione seemed to look slightly offended. "Of course Ron! Nothing is working in these waters... something's wrong." Hermione looked over to Ron, who was close to going under. Although Hermione had no life jacket, the swimming lessons she took as a child paid off. She was doing a lot better than Ron. "Ron, you've got to let go of me! I'll be fine, I'm dragging you down."

"I'm not letting you go Hermione, the current's too strong, you'll be washed away!"

"RONALD!" She screamed. "You are in a lot more danger than I am right now and if you don't let go... I'm leaving!"

This seemed to be enough for Ron, who was slightly frightened by Hermione. "Fine." He whispered.

And with that, Ron let go of Hermione and they continued to drift through the unforgiving waves of the sea.

Back over with Flitwick and Molly, the pair still remained silent. They managed to find a piece of the plane's wing to clutch onto but the waves were making it increasingly difficult to hold on.

Flitwick whispered to Molly, as he floating on his back, one hand grabbing the wing. "Well Molly, I believe that this may be—"

"Bill!" The foreign voice called out. "Is anybody 'ere?"

Flitwick and Molly turned their heads over to the calling and saw Fleur Delacour wading a few metres before them, her once beautiful dress ruined by the water.

"Someone please 'elp!" The witch coughed on some water, her head in and out of the sea. A wave crashed over her and she was gone.

"Miss Delacour!" Shouted Flitwick. "Molly, I must go assist her."

"No Filius, please don't—"

"I'm sorry, I must!" Flitwick bid farewell to Molly and paddled as hard as he could over to where he saw Fleur.

"Dear..." He spoke, thrashing around in the waves, searching for Fleur. "Aha!" With all his strength, Flitwick hoisted Fleur's head out from under the water.

"Why, thankyou very much Professor," coughed Fleur, wiping her mouth. Admittedly, Flitwick was having trouble staying up, due to his obvious size; but he was happy to help the young witch.

"Did you see anybody else?" she asked quickly.

"Just Molly, she's right over—" Flitwick gestured to the direction where he and Molly were clutching the wing but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Molly?" Flitwick called out, shocked that at her disappearance, "MOLLY?" he screamed again, "WH—"

The icy wave crashed down onto Flitwick, detaching his life jacket from around his neck. He gasped for breath but was stopped by the churning sea water. He felt his body slowly shutting down as the chilling water took its toll, and found that he could no longer float.

The wave was pulling him under, and he could do nothing to stop it.


	5. The Hazardous Sailboat

"Ow!" Flitwick howled, as he felt something poke his eye. "Stop!" he pleaded, as he eye was violated once more.

Eyes still closed, Flitwick suddenly noticed how cold he was. His entire body was numb, and he was beginning to shake. The last thing he remembered was being pulled under water by a wave, but he couldn't possibly be underwater now. He was lying down, on something hard and wet. He was definitely no longer in the water. Though he could still smell the salty air, and feel the sea breeze, and he certainly felt like he was among the waves.

Flitwick hesitantly opened his eyes and found a long grey finger heading for his pupil, "Not again!" he squeaked, squatting the finger away.

"Master Flitwick is awake!" Kreacher exclaimed excitedly, helping the tiny Professor to his feet.

Unfortunately, this was short lived, as Flitwick was knocked to the ground in a second. It was at that moment where he realised that he was on a boat.

Relatively small in size, the boat's sails only just managed to pick up wind. It was made of a crude wood, and seemed to be slightly misshapen, but it stayed afloat.

_It looks like this boat was abandoned, _Flitwick thought, noticing the pieces of clothing and personal belongings scattered around the deck. _But why would anyone want to abandon this boat? It's unstable, sure, but it's not sinking. _

"Thank goodness you're alright, Filius," Arthur Weasley whimpered, as he emerged from the only undercover portion of the boat, "we found these inside." He explained, tossing Flitwick an old towel.

A light bulb in the small room where Arthur appeared from seemed to serve as the only light source on board, yet Flitwick could make out the all of the boat's passengers without the aid of the moonlight. Apart from Kreacher and Arthur, the only other person who seemed to be on board was Fleur, who was huddled against the wall with her towel.

Flitwick had so many questions, but he just didn't know where to start, "Arthur—"

"I don't know Filius." Arthur seemed to know where Flitwick was going with this. "I just don't know what happened. That plane was checked and rechecked several times, I don't know where we went wrong," Arthur sighed and knelt down next to Flitwick, "we also have no idea where the wands are. The bag still hasn't turned up, and we can't even use non-verbal spells! Something is wrong. Our magic has been blocked out completely. Not even Kreacher can use his magic."

Arthur looked over to Kreacher as the house elf gave a distressed sigh.

"And I bet you're wondering where this dangerous looking boat came from."

Flitwick nodded eagerly.

"Well the answer is that we don't know that either. It just sort of floated along. Someone wanted us to find this boat. I don't who and I don't know why, but all of this fits together somehow. Anyway, I climbed aboard the boat pretty soon after the crash and began searching for our fellow passengers. I found Kreacher rather fast but it was a few good minutes before I found you and Fleur."

"You mean we're the only ones you've found?"

Arthur cleared his throat, "Well, not exactly." He gestured for Flitwick to follow him into the tiny room and Flitwick let out a horrified squeal.

Elphias Doge was lying in the corner of the room dead, "It was all too much for dear Elphias I'm afraid."

"Another soul dead!" Flitwick cried sorrowfully.

"Another?" questioned Arthur nervously.

"Pomona."

"How awful." Arthur snivelled regretfully. His birthday celebrations were turning into a nightmare.

By this point in time, Flitwick had noticed that the waves had reduced in size considerably, and the wind was nothing more than a gentle whisper.

_The calm before the storm, _he thought.

Flitwick had also hoped that Fleur hadn't told Arthur that he had left Molly to go save her, and he had no desire to tell Arthur himself anytime soon either.

He couldn't remain silent though, not now, "They'll be alright, Arthur; your family. The Weasleys are one of the toughest bunches I've met!"

Arthur let out a curt nod, before returning to the deck to look for more survivors.

This gave Flitwick time to think over what had just happened.

_We boarded a muggle aircraft. The skies were clear, the plane was checked, yet there was an explosion._

_We crashed into the ocean. Some of us have already died, most are missing._

_A mysterious sailboat floated by just in time to save Arthur._

_He thinks it's connected to the crash.  
><em>

_Someone, or something, sent that sailboat._

_None of this is a coincidence. Or an accident._

_This was planned. _

With that realisation out the way, Flitwick decided against staying in the room with the body of a former acquaintance, so he returned to the deck and sat down beside Fleur.

"How are you feeling, Miss Delacour?" Flitwick asked courteously.

Fleur just shook her head and buried her face into her towel.

"I know it's hard to keep hope alive when we've already lost some of those we care about, but we're still here, aren't we? We're not the only survivors. Bill—" this seemed to spark Fleur's attention, as she lifted her head to face Flitwick, "he's going to be okay. He's a strong wizard, and he'd always come back for you."

Fleur started shivering more rapidly, but she managed to let out a small smile.

"Well would you look at that," Flitwick announced, "you can smile!"

This made Fleur grin more appreciatively, yet her shaking began to pick up.

"Is lady alright?" Questioned Kreacher, as he threw another towel onto Fleur's head.

Fleur didn't answer. Her whole chest began convulsing and she fell onto the floor, sprawled out like an octopus.

"There! I see more bodies in the water!" Arthur shouted out, totally unaware of Fleur's predicament.

"But Arthur, Fleur is having some sort fit! Her body is in shock—she's shutting down!"

"Quick Filius, help me pull them in!" Arthur ordered, still ignoring Fleur.

Flitwick ran to the side of the boat where Arthur was pointing, and saw two figures floating in the water. The moonlight wasn't enough to see who they were, or if they were alive or dead. Flitwick just knew that Arthur was clinging onto any hope about his family's survival.

"Master Flitwick!" Kreacher shrieked, directing his attention back to Fleur.

The girl was now flopping around on deck like a newly caught fish. It was a horrible sight to see. Her eyes had already rolled back into her head and her complexion changed to the palest shade of white. Kreacher was totally helpless and kept throwing towels onto her, and Arthur was growing agitated at Flitwick's reluctance to help.

"Forget about the girl!" Arthur screamed, acknowledging Fleur for the first time since they had arrived on the boat. "Help me over here!"

Flitwick had never seen Arthur like this before. He was usually such a calm, selfless person. The crash certainly rattled him quite a bit.

The wind grew strong again, as the boat was being thrashed around by the waves. Flitwick was bombarded with screams for help from both sides of the vessel as he faced an impossible decision.

What Flitwick did next potentially meant ending someone's life over another.

_What now?_

* * *

><p><strong>Written for the '52 Weeks of Writing 2013 Competition'.<strong>

**Prompts used:****Abandoned, dangerous, moon, "Well would you look at that."**

**Optional prompts used:****Calm before the storm**


	6. The Ongoing Nightmare

"Filius please, I've nearly got them on board," Arthur screamed anxiously, "I just need that final strength!"

"Arthur! Fleur is on the brink of death, I need to help her first."

"But I'm so close Filius!" Arthur reasoned, as the splashing salt water stung his eyes.

"Fleur will die if I don't help her now. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?"

Arthur looked into Flitwick's eyes as if he was about to argue back, but then shook his head and directed his attention back to the task at hand.

"Quickly!" Arthur said begrudgingly, as he struggled to pull one of the people on board.

Flitwick raced back over to Fleur and grabbed the towels Kreacher had been throwing on her. He then proceeded to wrap them very tightly around her body as if she was in a cocoon.

"Hold her extremely still, Kreacher!" Flitwick directed urgently.

THUMP!

The tiny charms professor directed his attention back over to Arthur and the new passenger now on board. The unmistakeable figure of Aunt Muriel was almost blue and her eyes were tightly shut. Her hair was covering most of her face and her heavy gown was drenched with the icy water.

"I'm going to need some help with this next one, Filius!" Arthur howled, pointing to the upside down figure of Horace Slughorn, floating in the water.

"Arthur if we pull him on board too quickly he could flip the boat! It'll be too unbalanced." Flitwick voiced.

"It's okay Filius. Fleur and Kreacher are on the other side of the vessel."

"But Arthur, I really don't think—"

"Now!" Arthur screeched, ignoring Flitwick's concerns.

Arthur and Flitwick reached into the icy water and grasped their hands around the large potions master. With all their strength they attempted to bring the man aboard.

The boat, which had miraculously not tipped yet, leaned dangerously close to the water. The two struggling men felt the waves whacking against their faces and coughed on the salt water they had accidentally swallowed. Kreacher was even knocked off his feet and tumbled down to the other side of the boat.

"We can't do this Arthur! He's just too heavy."

"But we can't lose anyone else!"

"Arthur, look at him. He's gone."

Arthur looked down at the overweight professor. He was upside down, not moving and only being kept afloat by his life jacket. If he wasn't dead now, he would probably die soon anyway. The pair of rescuers looked at each other mournfully, then simultaneously let go of the man. At that precise moment the boat rebalanced itself and Slughorn was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Just twenty-four hours ago, everyone had been safe and well.

Now everyone was stuck in a nightmare.

Flitwick scanned the boat for its passengers. Arthur was slumped over in the corner with his face buried in his hands, Kreacher, it seemed, had hit his head and was on the ground knocked out, Fleur had stopped shaking, and was feebly stirring in the corner, and Aunt Muriel still lay motionless on the deck.

"Arthur!" Flitwick shouted over the sound of the wailing wind.

Arthur looked up from his hands but said nothing.

"We need to keep warm and get some sleep. We'd only be wasting our time looking for survivors."

Flitwick didn't mean to sound so blunt, but it was true. There is no way anyone could survive in those waters.

For the next few minutes, the pair worked together to bring Kreacher, Fleur and Muriel over to the same spot. They covered them all tightly with towels, and then lay down beside them. The sail was practically useless now, so they just had to let the waves take course.

Getting to sleep, Flitwick soon discovered, was easier than he expected. Despite the fact the boat was rocking, the wind was loud, and he was constantly getting sprayed by water, exhaustion managed to take over, and he practically passed out. Dreams and nightmares alike plagued Flitwick as he slept, with one dream in particular causing the most concern. He hadn't been as uneasy about it before, but in light of what had happened, all of that changed.

_Flitwick was back on the plane._

_All the passengers were still alive and having dinner._

_He felt a bit ill, so he left for the restroom._

_He looked into the mirror and washed his face with some water._

_Something wasn't right._

_He looked around the tiny room expecting to see something out of the ordinary._

_Nothing was different._

_Or was it?_

_He could smell something strange._

_Something familiar._

_A drink?_

_No, a potion._

_It was unmistakeable._

_Disgusting and fowl no matter what it was made with._

_Someone had poured the excess liquid down the sink._

_But why would anybody on the plane need it in the first place?_

_Something really wasn't right. _

_Someone was not being honest._

_Someone on this plane was taking polyjuice potion._

"Filius!" Arthur roared, waking him from his slumber.

Flitwick immediately picked himself up from the now flooded deck. The boat was slowly, but surely, sinking and they had no way of stopping it. He scanned the ship for possible leaks, but found not a single crack.

"It's the waves!" Arthur explained, "They're just too big for this boat."

Flitwick now understood exactly what Arthur meant. The waves had grown to frightening levels which made the boat look even smaller. Every wave seemed to either crash into the boat, or over the boat, leaving the floor a wet mess.

"Hold on tight, Filius!" Arthur firmly suggested, gesturing to a monster wave hurtling towards them.

Flitwick, however, had nothing to hang on to, so he just lay as close to the floor as possible.

As the wave approached, instead of crashing the boat into pieces, it lifted the boat up so it was now riding the wave. The vessel sped along at a high speed, perched on top of the large body of water. Flitwick didn't dare look over the edge, but he felt like he was soaring in the air. They were in a very dangerous position, but the boat remained steady.

"Arthur, we might actually stay safe if we—"

CRASH!

The boat shattered as it hit the sand. The main sail completely cracked in half, the hull burst into pieces in every direction, and Flitwick flew through the air only to hit his head as he made it to the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>Written for the '52 Weeks of Writing 2013 Competition'.<strong>

**Prompts used: Journey, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?", sand.**

**Optional prompts used: ****Nightmare.**


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